Disclaimer: This is J.K Rowlings world, and we're just living in it.
A/N: So this is a really short story. And it's really random. But I liked it. And when I say it's short, I mean, it's SHORT. Barely a story. More like a few paragraphs. Or a small piece from a bigger story. Which, technically it is. Just not my story. Rowling's. Hence the disclaimer. I'm rambling. Read it, tell me what you think. Here you go.
First Kiss
"Oh Tom, you're the only one that understands!" Ginny cried into her notebook. "I wish I could talk in person, for real, like normal people in love…"
"But you can, Ginevra" The familiar neat script appeared on the worn pages, slowly fading away as they always did. Ginny Weasely just wanted to look at them forever, for them to never leave.
"How Tom? How?" she cried frantically, feeling the need of him being close to her surface. It was a hunger for him, she would kill for him, and in her strange dreams she had done just that. And honestly, that terrified her, which is why she threw it away. But something came over her. She needed him back. She just wanted to be with him always; he was the one, she just knew it. Harry could never love her like Tom did. Tom must have loved her; he told her so all the time. He said that Harry didn't even know she existed.
Suddenly she felt her body weaken slightly. "Tom? Tom what's going on?" she shrieked, terrified.
"Just relax my Ginevra," but this time it wasn't just the writing. She heard the voice. She felt herself weaken even more. Then, someone lightly touched her shoulder. She jumped at least a foot in the air, and abruptly turned around. She stared into striking green eyes. She went to cry out, but the beautiful man in front of her said softly, his full pink lips appealing to her in way she never felt before, "Shh, don't be afraid my Ginvera."
"Tom? Is it really you?" she whimpered, her eyes opening wider in shock.
"Yes Ginevra, it's me." He had a dazzling smile, better than she could have ever imagine. She felt frozen in her space.
"I love you Tom," she whispered.
He then kissed her on the mouth, hard, forcing his tongue inside. She cried out, but she wasn't sure if it was in ecstasy or fear. A little bit of both, she imagined. She kissed him back, lightly; unsure of what she was doing.
"Then you will help me," he replied breaking away from the kiss.
"Anything for you, Tom."
"Good." He grinned wickedly. Then everything went dark. She fell to the ground, her head making a cracking noise as it hit the stone floor of the hallway outside of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He licked the blood off of her forehead, tasting the metallic flavor, savoring every bit as it made him stronger. He tossed her easily over one shoulder, and wrote her suicide note on the stone wall in her shining, deep red, blood. Cackling at his own cleverness, he carried her into the bathroom, and walked slowly towards the sink, staring intently at the stone carvings of the serpents. He'd come to memorize every small detail of them, as he had stared at them numerous times before.
"Like taking life from a muggle," he said quietly to himself. He hissed at the sink, and laughed loudly as he jumped into the dark hole, a flag of red hair waving behind him. His victory flag.